


put together wrong, but made for you

by muse_apollo



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Elias is a bastard, Getting Together, M/M, Name Changes, Slow Burn, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Time Skips, Unresolved Emotional Tension, because he's an ass, elias knows peter is his soulmate but doesn't bother to tell peter, rating is for swearing and non-explicit sexual content, slow burn here refers mostly to the romance they get to the rest of it pretty quick, these two have a very weird definition of what is romantic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-24
Updated: 2021-02-23
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:46:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 12,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27183331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/muse_apollo/pseuds/muse_apollo
Summary: Jonah Magnus had never given much thought to the notion of his soulmate. He was far more a pragmatist than a romantic, and while he knew it was something that existed in the world, it was never something he’d put much thought into outside of an intellectual curiosity. That being said, it wasn’t possible to fully ignore the black letters inked along the inside of his wrist. The handwriting is small, and a bit messy, the letters more separated than Jonah has seen before. Inelegant.Peter Lukas.-or-The one where Jonah Magnus meets his soulmate in the wrong century, Peter has a dead man's name on his skin, and Elias decides to see how long he can play this game before Peter figures it out.
Relationships: Elias Bouchard/Peter Lukas
Comments: 55
Kudos: 190





	1. Chapter 1

Jonah Magnus had never given much thought to the notion of his soulmate. He was far more a pragmatist than a romantic, and while he knew it was something that existed in the world, it was never something he’d put much thought into outside of an intellectual curiosity. That being said, it wasn’t possible to fully ignore the black letters inked along the inside of his wrist. The handwriting is small, and a bit messy, the letters more separated than Jonah has seen before. Inelegant.

_ Peter Lukas. _

It doesn’t tell him anything except that his soulmate is a man, something he doesn’t find particularly surprising. He’s never seen the appeal of women the way other men seem to. Regardless, he doesn’t think about it all that much, because to Jonah Magnus there are far more important things than a life partner, romantic, platonic, or otherwise. 

His curiosity is mildly peaked when he meets one Mordechai Lukas and they begin their little group with Smirke and the others. He asks Mordechai about it once. Not giving him the specifics, just asking if there’s anyone in the family by the name of Peter. He doesn’t mention the dark words staining the pale skin of his inner wrist. 

Mordechai laughs, a deep, hearty thing, and tells him he’s never heard of a  _ Peter  _ Lukas. At this time, the Lukas clan is small, Mordechai had no siblings and both his parents have already passed.

“Why do you ask?” He says, and Jonah merely shrugs.

“Thought I’d heard the name somewhere.”

They don’t talk about it again after that, and honestly Jonah doesn’t think about it all that much. It’s not as if he’s lonely, he has trysts from time-to-time, Barnabus Bennet being the most long-standing before his unfortunate demise at the hands of Mordechai. He has far more important things on his mind. He’s getting on in his years, something which the ache in his joints makes unpleasantly apparent, and he’s not sure how long he had left. And of course, there’s the matter of the Watcher’s Crown. 

Besides, the kind of person who would be tied to Jonah Magnus is no doubt of questionable moral character, and Jonah doesn’t have time to entertain the schemes of others. He has his own plans to accomplish. 

When the Crown fails he’s bitter, but more than that he’s tired. He’s spent most of his life working towards this only for it to fail. He only wishes he knew what he’d done wrong. Still, there’s an advantage; some power that lingers inside him, that tells him he’s more deeply tied to beholding than he’s ever been before. 

He knows not, how not to die; and that’s far more important than any measly soulmate. He needs to live so that he can take the time to lick his wounds, to prepare and to try again.

His institute, and subsequently his personhood, is quite bound up in the Lukas family. This is primarily because of their continual funding, but also part because Jonah can’t help but find some degree of amusement in toying with Lukases; their polite fog is so antithetical to his drive to  _ Know _ . There is a kind of mutual antagonism which generally exists between the Forsaken and Beholding which Jonah finds morbid amusement in. 

He never once in all those years meets a Peter, and his new bodies bear the names of their own soulmates so it starts to drift from Jonah’s mind. In fact the idea of a soulmate has almost entirely slipped from his mind. Until the exact moment that it is forced to resurface. 

****

The man who walks into James Wright’s office is decidedly  _ not  _ Nathaniel Lukas. Nathaniel Lukas is thin and pale, a gangly thing with limbs a bit too long for his body. He has the near-colourless eyes of a Lukas but none of the strength which would have passed down from Mordechai. 

This man, though, this man is a true Lukas, tall, and barrel-chested with the odd slouching posture of a man desperately trying to take up as little space as he can. He has a strong brow and chin, and a thick, slightly crooked nose that takes up the majority of his face. It's uncanny to Jonah really, the similarity to Mordechai, but there’s something a bit softer about him, a light smattering of freckles across his nose and cheeks, a softness around the edges of his eyes. He’s in his mid-thirties, red-blonde hair already going white at the temples, though Jonah suspects that’s the Lonely taking its due. 

Jonah -James- raises an eyebrow at him. “I was expecting Nathaniel,” his tone is dry, disinterested despite the fact that his curiosity is piqued. 

“Couldn’t make it. He’s become caught up in other projects lately, sends his regrets.” His voice is pleasant, a bit raspy, friendlier than expected. 

‘I’m sure he does.” James scoffs. “And you are?”

“Peter Lukas.” 

His grip on the pen in his hand tightens minutely.  _ Ah _ . He hadn’t been expecting that. It’s not an entirely unpleasant surprise, but the timing is inconvenient to say the least. He’s not planning to keep James much longer; something has begun to grow in his left lung that tells him this body is nearing expiration. Still there’s always the next one. 

He stands -not as quickly or as easily as he would like, the knees on this one have started to wear thin- and he approaches the other man, holding out a slender, well-manicured hand. “James Wright. Will you be the one handling funding from now on?” He _ could _ just Look. Not polite though. And besides the fog of the Lonely clings close to this one, close enough to make it difficult. 

“I will.” Peter’s hand is broad, and callused from hard labour, his skin cold and rough against James’ skin. The grip is firm but not unpleasantly so. 

The corners of James Wright’s mouth pull up in a smile. “I look forward to working with you.” 

Peter looks nervous, won’t quite meet his gaze.  _ Perfect _ . 

*****

His work with Peter over the next year was fairly distant, fairly professional. James doesn’t have time to reach out, not when there's so much work to do. He’s rather excited as he takes the steps towards preparing his new body. Elias Bouchard is close to perfect, late twenties, and healthy. Slender, with a fine bone structure that would be complimented by a more refined haircut. Not that appearance is his primary concern; but it does appeal to his vanity to be able to claim a handsome face. 

Especially now there’s the matter of a potential  _ soulmate _ to consider. 

He sets to work on it quick enough, he’s got the process down to a science now, switching the eyes. He leaves James Wright’s empty corpse in his desk chair and the whole thing looks as if the head of the institute died of a heart attack in his office. The paperwork that names Elias Bouchard his successor placed somewhere easy enough to find, but not so easy as to warrant investigation. 

Once he’s settled in his new form, with a haircut and some new clothes, Jonah -no,  _ Elias  _ now, he reminds himself- begins for the first time in his life, to truly consider the possibility of a soulmate. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> all the feedback so far has been so wonderful! I love you all so much, glad my obsession with these two bastard men could make some people happy!

Peter has always held an interest in working with the institute, even outside the general interests of the Lukas family. It had started when he was a child, when his parents had first told him the significance of the sloping, elegant hand inscribed on the inside of his right wrist.

It was impossible, his mother had explained to him. It simply could not be. And yet there it was, bold black against his milk-white skin.

_ Jonah Magnus _ .

But Jonah Magnus was dead, had been for nearly a century now. He’d never married, had no descendants to speak of, no direct family lineage, no one who could have inherited the name. Of course, there was always the possibility of coincidence, that there was some other man in the world who happened to be called Jonah Magnus but Peter had learned that the world they lived in wasn’t a place for coincidence. 

So all he could be certain of was that the key to it lied in the institute, so when his uncle had asked him to take over, of course Peter had said yes. 

Upon his first visit to the institute, Peter has stared up at the portrait of Jonah Magnus with a furrowed brow. He was a handsome man, even far on in his years as he was in the painting, and his eyes were bright. Too bright. The near fluorescent tone of bright spring leaves, the brightness of the colour made all the more notable in its stark contrast against the dull tones which made up the rest of the painting. Eyes that seemed to follow you as you moved around the room, seemed to pierce the fog which Peter always shrouded himself in like a cloak. 

Peter had looked up at it with narrowed, pensive gaze, and he had wondered.

Now Peter stands at the funeral of James Wright. It's a gloomy day, that English rain that isn’t quite rain but rather like the whole air is thick with drops of water that settle on every part of him. To Peter the weather is perfect.  Peter isn’t sure how he feels about James Wright’s death. He hadn’t known the man long, and hadn’t cared for him much. Found him a bit abrasive if he was being honest. The death itself was nothing out of the ordinary, heart failure, they’d said, although the autopsy had found a tumour growing in his left lung.

Towards the end of the funeral a man approaches him. Peter’s surprised by that, he'd thought he’d faded into the background enough to avoid notice but there the man is, eyes bright and watchful, green almost luminous in the grey gloom of the morning. Must be one of Beholding’s lot then; Peter tries not to recoil under the intensity of his gaze.

The man is short, short enough that it’s almost comical when he sidles up to stand beside Peter, young too; with a sharp face and a sly kind of smile.

“You must be Peter Lukas.” His gaze is so sharp that Peter almost withers beneath it. “Allow me to introduce myself. Elias Bouchard.” His voices is pleasant, a low, throaty drawl that sends a small shudder down Peter’s spine. He holds out a swell-manicured hand, Peter eyes it for a moment before shaking it. “We’ll be working together closely.” 

“Oh?” Peter raises an eyebrow. 

“I’m the new head of the institute.” He clarifies, still wearing the same smug smile.

“You’re pretty young to be in such a high up position.”

Elias’ smile only widens at that, there’s something catlike in the expression. “I can carry my weight, I assure you.” A pause. “I understand my predecessor had a more… distant approach to his relations. I personally prefer to develop an acquaintanceship with my donors, I find a better rapport leads to everyone getting what they want.”

Not even five minutes in the ground and this replacement is already trying to dig his claws into Peter. Probably some nasty plan to grab more funds for his institute. Still there’s some charm to him, something about him feels lonely; a delightful touch of solitude that tickles the edges of Peter’s mind. 

The man sidles a bit closer, still grinning that unnerving, catlike grin. “Perhaps we could set up a meeting to discuss the details a little further. A funeral is no place for business after all. Would you be amenable to lunch? Somewhere quiet of course, I know you Lukases aren’t exactly  _ fond  _ of crowds.”

So he knows. Wright must have kept him up to date. There must be good reason behind why this man with his bright eyes was chosen to head the stronghold of Beholding. 

“Yeah, alright.” He’s not entirely sure why he agrees to it, but there’s something about the man that holds his attention. 

Elias grins wide enough that Peter could count his teeth if he wanted to. “Perfect.” 

*****

If he’s being honest, Elias is probably a bit too pleased with himself. Not that that’s anything new really, Elias is always pleased with himself. At the moment, he’s getting ready for lunch. He dresses fairly casually, a black dress-shirt and olive slacks, foregoing the tie and jacket, he doesn't want to build too formal an atmosphere. He leaves the top two buttons of the shirt undone, exposing just a hint of collarbone. He examines himself in front of the mirror for a long moment, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Yes, this body had been an _excellent_ choice. 

He reminds himself that there is a possibility the whole thing is coincidence. Peter is a common name. This may not be the Peter Lukas that had been etched into the skin of his original body. Then again, coincidence, Elias has learned, is not all that common in the world he makes his home. Still, he needs proof. He needs to see the other man’s mark, needs to know what name Peter bears on his skin. 

He’s something close to giddy by the time he’s on the way to the restaurant. 

*****

Lunch began with the boring topics of conversation. It was good to get business matters out of the way, funding issues Elias notes with growing irritation that the whole meal Peter is pulling his sleeve down over his wrist, whether the gesture is conscious or not he’s not certain. Regardless, it’s futile to try and catch a glance at it, and so another, more nuanced approach will be necessary.

What he needs is an in. What he doesn’t expect, is for Peter to be the one to give him that in.

“How did someone like you end up in this position anyway?” He asks, and Elias frowns a bit. 

“I’m not sure I know what you mean.” There’s a hint of warning underneath his tone.

“Well, you’re a bit young, aren’t you?” A pause. “And when I asked my uncle, he said he’d never heard of you. Funny that, you seem to have risen through the ranks fairly quick.”

Elias can’t help but be slightly flattered at the notion that Peter has asked Nathaniel about him, finds himself preening just a bit under the other man’s gaze. “You’re awfully curious, considering.”

Peter snorts at that. “Oh, I don’t mind  _ knowing _ , just prefer not to be known myself.”

“Alright then.” The corners of Elias’ mouth tug up in a smile. “I imagine you’re familiar with some of the less public aspects of the institute, yes?”

“Obviously.”

“Then you’re aware it requires someone with a very  _ specific _ set of qualifications to run it?” 

“Ah.” Peter nods. “I see. Or… I suppose  _ you _ see.” 

Elias blinks slowly at that. “ _ Really _ ?” He raises an eyebrow in surprise.

Peter chuckles, a low sound, smile hidden behind his hand, face flushing red as though he were having a particularly different time holding back his laughter. The joke, Elias wants to point out, isn’t all that funny, and yet the whole display is endearing enough that Elias finds himself letting it slide.

“Not uncomfortable to be dining with a denizen of Beholding?” He says instead. 

“So long as you don’t go poking around in my head,” Peter replied shortly. 

Elias smiles like a cat. “I wouldn’t dream of it,  _ Peter _ ,” his voice is a low purr. “Besides, it’s far too foggy in there to see clearly even if I wanted to.” 

“That’s kind of the point.” Peter meets his gaze, bold, brazen, surprising. He hasn’t met Elias’ eyes before this moment. Elias feels himself straighten a bit, preening beneath the other man’s gaze.

“So what made you decide to work with the institute?”

Peter’s brow furrows at that. “You mean aside from my uncle asking me to?”

“Well…” Elias gestures, a loose flourish of his wrist, “technically you didn’t  _ have  _ to agree. It’s not like there’s not enough of you Lukases to go around.”

Peter chuckles again, that low sound, deep in his chest that Elias is finding he enjoys more and more each time he hears it. “One big lonely family,” he quips. “You’re right; I didn’t have to, but I suppose I’ve always been… interested in your institute.”

Elias leans forwards just a bit, his elbows resting on the table. “ _ And why is that _ ?”

The question floats along the air between them, slipping into Peter’s ears, probing the corners of his mind. Peter’s eyes glaze a bit, and he opens his mouth as if to speak. Then all at once Elias feels the fog close over, forcing him out, his mouth snapping shut, eyes narrowing. “Tricky bastard aren’t you?” 

Elias sits back in his seat, bringing his wine glass to his lips to conceal his smirk. “You don’t know the half of it.” He takes a long, slow sip of his wine, his eyes hooded as he regards Peter carefully. He’s still not used to this face, but he can tell the expression is having the desired effect on the other man. Elias sets the glass down on the table, tongue darting out to wet his lips. “I think this is going to be an amicable arrangement, don’t you?”

“Sure."

“When do you sail out again?” 

Peter frowns deeply at that. “Why?” 

“What? I can’t be curious?” 

“You can be.” Peter replied, a bit too cheerfully for Elias’ liking. “I mean, you  _ will  _ be, that’s what you are. I just don’t have to satisfy that curiosity.” 

“Fine.” Elias’ bottom lip jut out just slightly. “I have a proposition for you.”

“Oh dear. That sounds ominous.” 

“There's no need to worry, I assure you.” He rests his head in his hand. “We get an awful lot of statements from people who have become… quite isolated due to recent events. The sort you might be interested in.” A long pause. “I could… slide the names your way. If you wanted.”

“I don’t mean to sound ungrateful, but why?”

“Well… it’s not like they’re of any more use to us than they already have been.” 

“You’re offering me your leftovers?” 

“Well… when you put it like that it doesn’t sound very nice at all, does it?” Elias shrugs. “It makes no difference to me, really.” 

“Alright, I’ll bite.” Peter smiled, it was a crooked thing, lilting slightly to the left. “I assume you want something for it?”

“Perhaps.”

“What then? More funding?”

“Nothing of the sort.” Elias smiles at him, all teeth. “Its far more simple than that. A drink. With you. Before you leave. Somewhere a bit less…  _ formal _ than this.” 

Peter’s mouth falls open at that, his brow furrowing for just a moment before his confusion morphs into a sly grin. “That wouldn’t be very  _ professional _ , now would it, Mr. Bouchard?”

It's certainly not a no. “No, I don’t suppose it would.” Elias swirls a finger absently around the rim of his wine glass. “So is that a yes?” 

Peter regards him cooly for a long moment, as though trying to determine some ulterior motive, then he nods. “Alright. Fuck it.” 

*****

The drink went according to Elias’ plan. Then again, there are very few things that do not go according to Elias’ plans, he makes sure of that. 

He sits close to Peter in the booth, brushes their shoulders together just a bit, feels the other man shudder a bit at his touch. Elias can’t help but enjoy this, feeding off of Peter’s need to be alone, forcing him to be  _ seen _ . Of course, Peter seems to be enjoying himself too, if the broad, calloused hand which comes to rest on his knee is anything to go by. 

It’s about an hour into the night, and just starting their second drink, when the slip happens. It’s such a simple thing really. Peter reaches for his drink, and his sleeve slides up just a bit, exposing the skin of his wrist. And there it is, black ink sitting in stark contrast against Peter’s pale complexion.

Elias can’t read the whole name, but he can recognize his own signature, even only partly visible as it is in this moment. He inhales sharply at the sight of it, he’d known what it would say already, but having it confirmed is something else entirely; it stirs a feeling in his chest that he wasn’t entirely prepared for. Peter seems to realize what it is he’s looking at, and he freezes in his seat, one hand coming up to tug his sleeve back over the skin as if it isn’t already too late. The action is rough and quick, and Peter’s gaze falls to the table, avoiding making eye contact with Elias.

“Funny coincidence, that,” Elias says, once he’s recovered enough to speak again. He tries to sound nonchalant but there’s a slight quiver under his voice.

“One of life’s great mysteries,” Peter replies shortly, still not meeting his eye. 

“You don’t like to talk about it do you?” Elias cocks his head to one side.

“I really prefer not to.” 

Elias nods, his lips curling up in a smile. He places a hand on Peter’s thigh, his fingers sliding along the inseam of his jeans, suggestive. “Do you wanna get out of here?”

Peter’s brow furrows deeply, as if in confusion, but the expression quickly morphs into a sly smile. “Alright,” he says, after a fairly long moment.

Elias licks his lips. “Finish your drink, my flat isn’t far from here.”

“Why do I feel like you did that on purpose?”

Elias just grins. 

*****

Elias had pulled Peter into a kiss as soon as they got back to his flat. It was perhaps a bit impulsive, he thought, as he pressed the other man back into the wall, but Peter received it well, wrapping a hand around Elias’ waist and pulling him close. He seemed almost unsure of himself, at first, freezing for a moment. When Elias tangled a hand in Peter’s hair and tugged him closer Peter hummed against his mouth and began to kiss him back properly. Peter's lips are cold, as though he's been out in the rain too long, and he tastes of whiskey and cigarette smoke. It's odd, but not unpleasant, and Elias finds himself making a small sound of pleasure when the other man's teeth graze his bottom lip. 

He's startled by the intensity of his own emotion in that moment; by the voice in the back of his head which screams  _ mine mine mine _ over and over, the heat in his chest that drove him to press closer. His hands tangled in the thick knit of Peter’s sweater, tugging him closer, sliding underneath it to touch skin, to stake claim.

Peter laughs breathlessly against his mouth, sound trailing off into a low groan as Elias rakes his nails down the other man’s back.

“Eager, are we?” He teases.

“What, and you’re not?” 

“I never said that.” His grip on Elias’ waist tightens just a bit, hands big enough to span the majority of the smaller man’s ribcage. “Just pointing out the obvious.” 

“Would you just shut up and take me to bed already?” Elias snaps.

Peter grins at him. “Gladly.” Elias definitely does  _ not  _ yelp in surprise when Peter lifts him bodily off the ground and carries him in the direction of the bedroom. 

*****

Afterwards Elias went to take a shower. He’s not surprised to find Peter gone when he returns. Really, it was to be expected; a devout follower of Forsaken would hardly be the sort for pillow talk. He’d expected that, even the absence of a goodbye doesn’t truly bother him. Peter can no more deny his nature than Elias can his own. 

What  _ does _ bother him is the dull ache that sits in the pit of his chest as he lays his head on his pillow and finds that the smell of Peter still lingers there. It’s not the other man’s absence that bothers him, but rather that he is so distinctly  _ aware  _ of that absence. 

Or, to put it another way, that he feels, for the first time in almost a century,  _ Lonely. _

Elias smiles just a bit to himself at the private joke. He’s sure Peter would just  _ love _ that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you see me taking every opportunity to describe mens hands mind your business i'm gay


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you all for the feedback so far, I'm having so much fun with this and I'm glad you all like it

Peter is coming to terms with the fact that he may have gotten himself in a bit over his head. The problem, most notably, is one of temptation. Strictly speaking, Peter has never had what he would call a healthy amount of self-control. This is not generally a big issue, as there’s nothing inherently wrong with a little self-indulgence now and again, and he tends not to land himself in too much trouble. That being said, it’s generally  _ preferable _ that any acts of self-indulgence appropriately align themselves with the service of his patron. Drinking, smoking, and even his fondness for wagers all fall under the category of acceptable vices. Even sex is fine -in fact one could make the argument that modern hookup culture is a vey  _ lonely _ thing indeed-, so long as he lives a life devoid of meaningful emotional connection. The important thing is that Peter has never found himself tempted by another  _ person _ before.

Which brings him to the crux of the issue. 

Elias Bouchard.

Peter’s not sure how exactly, but Elias has had a rather bothersome and unusual effect on him. Because for whatever godforsaken  _ -ha-  _ reason, Peter has found himself thinking about Elias at seemingly random times over the week since their last encounter, and that is, strictly speaking, not very  _ Forsaken _ of him. It irritates him as much as it perplexes him, the way the other man has managed to worm his way into the back of his mind like that. He was affronted that any person could get under his skin enough for their existence to matter to him. 

Fuck, Elias would probably be so  _ pleased _ with himself if he knew. Peter can picture the smug grin on the other man’s face, eyes shining with infuriating self-satisfaction beneath heavy lashes-

Ah, there it was again, and Peter bit down on the inside of his cheek hard.  _ Prick _ . 

Now, he didn’t  _ miss _ him. The very notion of that is completely ridiculous, Peter Lukas didn’t have it in him to miss people, any similar sentiment had been stripped away from him quite early in his childhood. But he was  _ thinking  _ about him, thinking about the way Elias gave him a little smile as he leaned across the table, and about how there had been something genuinely…  _ enjoyable _ -at this thought he shudders- about the company of the other man. 

This was something he could only conceive of as a  _ very  _ bad sign. Moreover, there was an unpleasant sort of weight in his chest that he couldn’t quite identify or alleviate but that he was sure was Elias’ fault somehow. It was alright, he was leaving soon. Some time at sea would do him good, some time for quiet self-contemplation to clear his head of whatever nonsense that smug little man had infected him with.

It would be fine once he was alone again.

*****

It’s three weeks after their drink that Peter appears in Elias’ office. Elias is going over expense reports at the time, grueling but necessary work, when he feels a sudden chill in the air, catches a smell on the air like just before it rains. He doesn’t stir from his work, but rather Watches through the eyes of one of the portraits on the wall as Peter materializes from a cloud of fog to stand behind him, his hands shoved somewhat awkwardly in the pockets of his long overcoat.

“Hello Peter.” The corners of his mouth pull up in a smile. 

There’s a few long moments of silence before he hears the other man sigh, finally manifesting fully. “Elias.” 

“For future reference, I must prefer pre-scheduled appointments to drop-ins.” 

“Sorry about that.” Peter doesn’t sound sorry at all as he comes to perch himself on the corner of Elias’ desk.

Elias looks up at him, sliding his reading glasses down the bridge of his nose. He doesn’t actually need them, his eyesight is far too good for that, but the body had worn them, and if he’s being honest, he likes the erudite effect they have on his appearance. One could hardly fault the man for being concerned about his own appearance  _ considering _ . He lets his gaze fall pointedly to where Peter is sitting on the corner of his desk, raising an single eyebrow in an expression of displeasure. 

Peter just scoffs but doesn’t otherwise move or acknowledge it.

Elias just sighs. “Peter, I’m really very busy, would you care to tell me the reason for your being here, or would you rather I just guess?” His smile turns a little more devious. “Or, I could always just Know it if-”

“That… won’t be necessary.” Peter cuts him off rather hastily.

“All the same to me.” A pause. “So…?”

“Ah. Right. Well, I realized I never did get that list from you.” There’s something distinctly uncomfortable about the way Peter’s holding himself, and Elias could have sworn he saw the other man’s cheeks flush just a bit. He bites back the urge to Look, to Know, to dig deep into the surface of the other man’s skull and devour all the little details of his life.

Instead Elias simply smiles. “Is that what this was about? Why didn’t you just say so?” He makes a show of pushing his chair back from the desk, his his little finger brushing ever so slightly against Peter’s leg where it rests on the dark wood. ”Give me a moment.” He stands, and crosses the room to a nearby filing cabinet. He watches Peter through the eyes on the walls while his back is turned. Peter is floundering just a bit, hands shoved deep in his pockets, head sitting low between his shoulders. 

He has terrible posture, Elias thinks, and smiles to himself.

He pulls out the file, a folder containing several pages of names, and hands it to Peter with a flourish of his wrist. “It’s all there. First and last names, last known addresses, contact information. Anything you’d need really.” He looks up at Peter, lips quirking in a sly smile. “And of course, I’d be willing to keep you updated should any more like that becomes apparent. If you’d like.”

“Thanks.” Peter takes the folder from him, Elias slides his hand along the bottom so that their fingers brush just a bit. 

“It is good to see you, you know.”

“Right, yeah.” Peter, annoyingly, won’t meet his eye.

“Is everything alright? You seem a bit off?” Elias shifts minutely closure, fully aware of what it is that’s bothering the other man. He doesn’t have to Look to see that. 

“M’fine.”

“Alright, if that’s all…” Elias keeps his tone clipped, professional. “I do have work to get back to.”

He starts to turn away and then Peter speaks. “I-I’m leaving tomorrow.”

It’s a struggle to keep his expression neutral, but Elias has more than a century of experience with lying. “Are you?” He cocks his head to one side. “I had no idea, you never did say.” There’s another long pause. “So is there a point to this… or was it just more of a blanket statement.”

“God you’re really gonna make me-” Peter grits his teeth. “ _ Fine _ . You know what? Nevermind, fuck you.”

Finally Elias lets the grin split his face. “Oh  _ Peter _ … did you come here to say goodbye? That’s so  _ sweet  _ of you, I’m touched really.” He slides closer into the other man’s space as he says it, noting the way Peter’s eye twitches in irritation. 

“God, I should’ve  _ known _ you’d be a smug little shit about it.” Peter growls back, his top lip curling with a snarl. “I was only trying to be polite.” 

“Oh is that  _ all _ ?”

For a moment Peter’s expression is a hard mask of rage, his face going red with it, his eyes narrow, and for just a second Elias thinks -hopes- that Peter will snap and press him back into the wall. Then the expression shifts into something like cold resignation and Peter sighs.

“Whatever.” He says finally. “I’m leaving.” He turns to walk away, fog creeping in around the edges of him as he does. 

Elias should probably leave it there, but he’s always had a penchant for being irritating. “What? No goodbye kiss?” He calls after him. 

That actually stops him in his tracks, and the fog fades a bit. Abruptly Peter turns and stalks towards him. He’s moving with intent, his expression difficult to read, and this new body is rather small so Elias very quickly finds himself backed into a filing cabinet with Peter looming over him, one arm on either side of Elias to bracket him in. 

There’s a moment of silence in which the only thing that can be heard is the sound of their breathing. Elias hates how audible the shake in his own breath is. 

“You’re kind of an ass, you know?” Peter’s voice is low, something between a murmur and a growl, and his hand moves to catch Elias’ chin, tilting his head back.  _ Finally _ meeting his eye. 

“Oh, you just noticed did you?”

“Shut up.” 

“So about that goodbye kis-”

And then Peter presses him back into the wall with one big hand splayed across the centre of his chest before crashing their mouths together. Elias lets out a pleased hum as the other man’s tongue, reaching out to wrap an arm around the other man’s neck, pulling him closer.

He’s vaguely aware of the fact that they probably shouldn’t do this in the office, but he’s more keenly aware of the way Peter’s fingers are biting into his hip, and the low growl the other man makes when Elias kisses his neck. So in all honesty, he doesn’t really care all that much.

They do make rather a mess of his desk by the end of it, expense reports crumples, scattered across the floor, but there are worse things, and his overall enjoyment of the experience makes the inconvenience of having to reorganize things after sting less.

Afterwards, once they’ve righted themselves, Elias drags Peter into one last kiss, a long, lazy thing. Peter allows it before stepping back. “Goodbye, Elias,” there’s something almost soft under his tone.

“Be seeing you.” Elias replies with a small smile.

And then just like that, Peter steps back and vanishes into the Lonely, leaving Elias to adress the mess they’ve made of his office. 

*****

Peter is gone for two months. Not that Elias is counting. To be honest, he’s quite busy. Gertrude has been giving him trouble, far to smart for her own good -or his good for that matter-. So really he doesn’t think about Peter all that much. 

Or at least that’s what he tells himself. 

Except that he finds himself thinking of Peter from time to time, his mind wandering against his will. There’s no way for him to contact Peter where he is, with effort he can even Know where he is, though actually seeing him is a bit more difficult. 

He tries to tell himself its just the sex he misses, to be fair it was good sex, but there was -begrudgingly- more to it than that, as evidenced by the fact that Elias found himself genuinely missing the other man’s conversation from time to time. It was utterly infuriating if he was being honest. 

Elias didn’t miss Peter, he told himself gain and again, Because he didn’t care enough to miss him.

Elias Bouchard is, of course, a liar.

*****

Peter Lukas doesn’t miss people, of course he doesn’t. To miss people is antithetical to what he is. He has work to do. Sacrifices to make, a god to feed. There wasn’t time to think about missing people. He’s not about to start making exceptions now especially not for for someone as irritating as  _ Elias Bouchard _ . 

He’s gone for two months, and in that time he doesn’t think about Elias, and he certainly doesn’t miss him. Or at least that’s what he tells himself. He tells himself it enough time that he almost believes it. 

Peter Lukas doesn’t miss Elias Bouchard. 

Peter Lukas is also a liar. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and here we have some emotionally repressed bastards!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two old men try and fail to handle their own emotions. That's it, that's the chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here they are again... the worst men in the world...
> 
> Once again thank you all for the feedback I've been getting on this, I love you all so much!

Two months is a long time. Not enough to forget, but enough for a heated ache of desire to cool to something duller, a quiet need in place of a pronounced one. Elias Knows as soon as Peter is back in England, not that Peter bothers to inform him. Or reach out. Or even send him a bloody email. Three weeks he’s been back in the country, travelled around a little bit, some places are harder for Elias to Watch than others, but London is the easiest. And the fact of the matter is Peter has been back in London for some time now -thirteen days to be exact- and has  _ not  _ come to see Elias, and while Elias can acknowledge that it is well within Peter’s nature to be avoidant, that doesn’t change the fact that it is well within  _ Elias’ _ nature to be right pissed off about it. 

Still he’s not about to  _ degrade _ himself by reaching out, after all this whole thing is just a bit of fun to him. Satisfying a curiosity through his reaching out to Peter so long as funding continues accordingly. And it does. 

Still being ignored -no, not ignored,  _ disregarded _ \- irks him, and Eventually after another week Elias cracks and sends an email. It's a small thing, professional, inviting Peter to the institute's annual donor gala. The event itself is not for another four months but some advance notice is required when reaching out to someone as deeply touched by forsaken as Peter Lukas. 

At least, that’s how Elias justifies the whole thing to himself. 

He’s not surprised when there’s no response. Not really. But he’s definitely annoyed, he snaps at some poor research assistant that day; though Elias hardly feels guilty for  _ that _ . 

It's another nine days -not that he’s counting, the knowledge simply comes to him- before Peter appears in Elias’ living room unprompted.

His arrival actually  _ surprised _ Elias, something he was loath to admit of course. But there it was, the telltale cold, damp feeling in the air, the crisp smell of sea wind on the air before Peter fully manifested, standing not two feet from his coffee table. 

Elias looked up in some confusion, brow furrowing.

“Oh Peter. How lovely to see you,” his tone drips with sarcasm. “Might I ask why you’re here?”

“Your invitation.” Peter elaborates, relatively unhelpfully. 

“Well it certainly wasn’t for today, was it?” Elias retorts. 

“No that’s not…” Peter rolls his eyes at that. “I came to decline it.”

“You could very well have done that over email, could you not have?” The response is pointed, irritable despite the flood of warmth in his chest at seeing the other man, something which he firmly tamps down. 

“I suppose I could have. Probably should have.”

Elias straightens them suddenly, cocking his head to one side, eyes narrowing just a bit. “Peter…” his tongue darts out to wet his lips before his face splits in a grin. “Did you  _ miss _ me?” 

Peter visibly stiffened at that. “Don’t be ridiculous, Elias. I don’t miss people.”

Elias caught the tip of his tongue between his teeth, his eyes bright with mischief. “Well… I suppose that makes me all the more special, doesn’t it?” 

“Shut up.” The reply was short, almost a growl, exactly what Elias had been aiming for.

He finally snapped shut the book he’d been reading, standing and gliding across the living room until he was about half away from the other man. “Come now, Peter. There’s no need to be rude,” he looked up at the other man with hooded eyes. “It’s alright to miss me.”

“I didn’t.” Peter spoke through gritted teeth, his jaw a hard line. Elias wanted to run his lips along the skin there to smooth out the hardness, to make Peter groan beneath his touch.

“Really? Because it seems like you did.” 

Peter took a near menacing step forwards, pale eyes narrowing in anger. “I told you not to look in my head.” 

“Please.” Elias rolls his eyes at that. “We both know you’d feel it if I was looking. And besides I don’t need to. You’re not as mysterious as you think you are.”

“Fine,” the words come through gritted teeth. “You wanna look?” his hand catches in Elias’ collar and he hauls him forwards, Elias finds himself lifted onto his toes with the strength of the gesture. Their gazes lock, Elias swallows. “Take a fucking look.” 

It’s a challenge but Elias jumps at the opportunity to take it, burrowing into the folds of the other man’s skull. He’s wanted this for such a long time, since he met Peter, and now he has it, Peter parting the fog just enough to give him a glance and Elias is caught up in the euphoria of knowing. Intoxicating. He’s not all that surprised by the array of more  _ sordid _ images sitting on the surface of Peter’s mind, but he presses his luck and pushes a little deeper, finding for a moment the dull ache of longing tucked away in a corner of Peter’s mind. He only gets a second’s glimpse of it, before he’s snapped back, Peter all at once pushing him out again. 

“My goodness, Peter.” Elias catches his tongue between his teeth. “You’ve put some thought into this haven’t you? You poor thing, out on that boat for so long. Must have been so…” a grin, “ _ lonely. _ ” 

“Not as lonely as you,” he releases Elias’ collar, letting him fall back to his feet. The remark is like a slap to the face, and Elias feels anger flare up hot inside of him. 

“It’s not polite to feed friends to your patron,  _ Peter _ .” 

“Since when are we friends?” Peter scoffs. “And besides, it’s not like you haven’t been doing the same thing to me.”

“Caught on to that did you?” He cocks his head to one side. “You’re right though. We’re not friends. It makes sense though, what we are is antithetical to friendship.” 

“And what’s that?”

Elias chuckles. “Why, we’re  _ monsters _ . We really can’t help but sink our teeth into one another just a bit, it’s in our nature.” 

Peter didn’t say anything to that, just watched him. He cocked his head to one side, lips pulling back from his teeth to show a sly smile. “Works for me if it works for you.” 

Elias returns the smile, then he sidles closer, pressing up against him, sliding a hand up the side of his neck to brush his fingers over the wiry hairs on Peter’s cheek. “You did miss me though.” He’s unable to stop himself taking that final little shot. 

“Would you please just for once, shut up?” but there’s something like fondness under his tone. 

“You could always make me.” 

Peter does. 

****

What’s that old saying?  _ Once chance. Twice coincidence. Three times a pattern.  _ Well, he’s not sure that exactly applies in the situation of sex, as that’s a statement bound up in fate as opposed to what Peter had done which was make the active decision to see Elias again despite his better judgement. It’d probably be closer to  _ Once an indulgence. Twice is a bad decision. And three times is _ … well you get the picture. 

The point is that a pattern is probably the closest thing either of them can -or care to- think of to call it. Relationship isn’t right, the term implies far more emotional availability than either man is willing to give. Certainly not friendship, half the time he finds Elias so infuriating he’s as likely to strangle him as he is to do anything else. 

Acquaintanceship is a bit to professional… a bit to courteous when you take into account what it is they’re actually doing.

No. Pattern is the best word for it, for the reasons above as well as for the simple fact that pattern focuses on the behaviour itself rather than the dynamic of the relationship between them. The behaviour is enjoyable, and the rest is nothing either man is particularly interested in analyzing or acknowledging. So yes, Pattern. 

The Pattern was simple enough. One of them reached out to the other, they slept together, Peter left, they don’t talk about it, and sometimes they go weeks, even months without speaking to each other in between. Lather, rinse, repeat. It’s a good arrangement. Or it should be. 

It really would be except for the fact that Elias can’t help but dig in, and Peter can’t help but pull away, their natures so antithetical to one another that it’s almost comical.

For Peter the problem is that some part of him actually  _ likes _ Elias, which makes it more inconvenient than it would be if he  _ didn’t  _ like  __ him. It’s easy to fuck someone you don’t like because there’s no risk of getting attached. Not that Peter is attached. He doesn’t have that in him.  And to be fair, he really does  _ hate  _ Elias sometimes. Sometimes the man will say something and will grin that smug little grin of his and Peter will want to punch him so bad, but at the same time he wants to press him back against the wall and kiss him until neither of them can breathe.

Elias Bouchard is something of a paradox to him, and that makes Peter hate him all the more. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh boy... these idiots still haven't even begun to figure it out, huh?


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i don't know why this took so long for me to write it but uhhhh,,, yeah.

The arrangement that the two of them have works out well for quite some time. In fact, it’s almost two full years into their odd pattern when Elias buys Peter the phone. He treats it as a simple thing, something which will allow them to maintain better contact while Peter is away. For business reasons, he makes sure to specify, though both men know that the business between them hardly requires regular phone calls. Peter thinks to point it out when Elias first gives him the phone but something stops him. 

The only number in the phone is Elias’. Peter never adds any others, it’s not like he’d call anyone else anyway. 

Sometimes Elias calls him while he’s away, and sometimes Peter even answers. They talk about events at the institute, or whatever it is Elias wants to talk about. They don’t talk about Peter, because Peter doesn’t  _ want _ to talk about himself. At the end of each phone call Elias’ loneliness is a pleasant shudder down the back of Peter’s spine. 

Then when Peter is back in England, they sleep together, and they still don’t talk about it. 

They manage this dynamic for almost three years before encountering any real problem with it. This is not to say they’ve never argued before; in fact, it would not be inaccurate to say that the two of them argue more than they get on, but this particular conversation was different. 

They were laying in bed after some particularly good sex, each man catching his breath in silence before Peter found himself speaking, his mouth seemingly moving of its own accord. Afterwards he would surely blame it on not being able to think straight post-orgasm, though any deeper consideration would reveal that the question had been on his mind for some time. 

“Do you ever wonder about it?” The words had spilled from his lips like marbles from a jar, untenable. Messy. 

Elias props himself up on one elbow, frowning down at Peter. “About what?” 

“Yours.” A pause. “I mean… your soulmate. You have a name there after all, so you must have one out there somewhere.” 

“No.”

Peter sits up a bit, resting his back against the headboard. “Really?” He cocks one eyebrow at that. 

Elias’ eyes narrow ever so slightly at that. “I’ve told you before Peter. It really doesn’t matter to me.” 

“See…” Peter purses his lips a bit, trying to find the right words. “I just find that hard to believe. Everyone is at least a little curious.” 

“Well, I’m  _ not _ .” Elias’ top lip curls just a bit at that. 

There’s a long moment of silence before Peter speaks again. “It’s a woman’s name.” 

Elias shrugs, turning over and digging in the bedside table for a cigarette. He lights it, taking a single long drag before turning his gaze back on Peter. “So it is.” A long pause. “Is there a reason you were looking?” 

Peter snorts. “You’ve seen mine. It’s only fair.”

“Yes well…” Elias pauses, taking a long drag off his cigarette, considering. “Yours is a curiosity. Mine is… an  _ inconvenience. _ ” 

Peter’s eyes go narrow at that. “A  _ curiosity?” _

“Would you prefer I called it an oddity? Or perhaps an impossibility?” 

“You’re such an ass sometimes,” Peter growls in response. 

“And yet you’re in my bed. So I can’t be that awful.” Elias digs in the drawer of the bedside table, placing a cigarette between his lips. It’s a nasty habit that came with this body, and one he hasn’t quite managed to kick yet. He lights it, taking a long drag before speaking again. “Honestly Peter, I don’t see why any of this really matters to you. The fact that you have a dead man’s name on your wrist should make it easier to keep that distance you like so much anyway.” He lets the words fall cruel and sharp from his tongue, and feels Peter tense just a bit. 

“Of course you’d find a way to make this about you. Everything has to be about you, doesn’t it you infuriating little man.”

Elias simply chuckles, taking a long pull of his cigarette. “Now Peter, mind your blood pressure.” A pause and a sigh. “I’m not making anything about me, I’m merely pointing out the walking contradiction that is your relationship to your patron. There’s really no need to  _ insult  _ me simply because you don’t like when I’m honest.” 

“Oh please, you’ve never been honest a day in your fucking life. Every word out of your mouth is cryptic bullshit to get what you want.” He’s standing now, rapidly dressing himself, Elias regards him cooly from where he sits on the bed.

“Leaving then? And without even bothering to finish the argument? How very predictable of you, Peter.” 

“Oh fuck off.” He doesn’t even bother to glance back at Elias.

“Fine, go then. You’ll be back eventually.” 

Peter doesn’t say anything, just finishes dressing, shrugging on his coat before leaving the same way he always does, pulling the quiet fog of the lonely around himself and vanishing from the room. 

Elias stares at the place where Peter vanished for a long time, finishing his cigarette and then stubbing it out in the ashtray. Then he grabs hold of the tray and flings it angrily at the place where Peter had been standing. The thing cracks where it hits the floor, heavy glass splitting and the ash from the few butts in it scattering across his Persian rug. It’ll be a pain to clean that. 

_ Fuck. _

*****

Peter is gone for longer than usual this time. Much longer. What’s worse is he’s not answering any of Elias’ phone calls, and Elias gets the feeling that he’s being given the silent treatment. 

Well then, two can play at that game. If Elias has learned one thing of his very long life, it’s how to be  _ patient _ . I mean for god's sake, he’s spent over a century waiting for the opportunity to pull off his grand ritual, he can certainly wait out whatever little tantrum Peter was having. 

He reminds himself that it doesn’t matter that the other man is his soulmate, or Elias has grown…. Somewhat attached to him. It’s really just the sex, he reminds himself. That and the fact that being exposed to a soulmate for the first time in his very long life had satisfied a longstanding curiosity of his own.

But that was all it was.

Still it irked him. So much so that apparently it had become noticeable, as on more than one occasion his receptionist has asked him if he was feeling quite alright. 

He told her he was, which had not been entirely a lie, his day had been going quite well save for the nagging irritation in the back of his mind at him having not heard from Peter in well over four months now. 

The last straw was when Simon -unobservant Simon fucking Fairchild- noticed that something was bothering him. Now that was truly embarrassing.

The two of them had been sitting down to lunch and Simon had taken one look at him and known immediately that something was wrong. 

“My goodness Jonah, what’s got you in such a state?”

“I wish you wouldn’t insist on calling me that.”

“Why not?” Simon grins at him. “It is your name.”

Elias just sighs, seeing no point in debating the semantics of his fluid identity with the other man. “Also I’ve no idea what you mean regarding my  _ state _ .” 

Simon laughs, a thing that echoes a little too wide, cavernous. “Well, it's the matter of what you’re wearing. I mean firstly, you’ve paired a Hanover knot with a point collar, not to mention an emerald jacket with olive slacks. Honestly Jonah I thought you were a servant of Beholding not Distortion.”

Elias just blinks at him. “I suppose I have been under a lot of stress lately.” A pause. “And there is the matter of well…” 

“Yes?” 

Elias sighs. “There is a  _ man _ .” the word falls from his lips with disdain.

“Oh dear.” Simon sounds a little too pleased with himself. “What sort of man could have possibly brought you to such a state? You’re hardly one to get attached.” 

“It’s an… exceptional circumstance.” 

“Oh? Not another Lukas is it?” 

At Elias’ silence, Simon laughs.

“Really Jonah, I thought you knew better than that by now. That really is a disconcerting habit of yours. You should know better than to strike up affairs with those touched by forsaken. They’re not capable of reciprocity.” 

“Yes, well. That’s hardly helpful in retrospect, is it Simon.” He sighs. “That being said, under normal circumstances, this wouldn’t be so much of a problem.” A pause, and a breath. “However, and trust me it does  _ pain _ me to say this… I find myself in need of advice.”

Simon cocks his head to one side at that. “Well now I’m curious.” 

“It’s…” a sigh. “This man…  _ Peter _ . He has my name on his wrist. My  _ real _ name.”

Simon laughs, and Elias shoots him a glare. “It’s not funny.” 

“It is a little funny, considering.” 

“I honestly don’t know why I bothered telling you any of this if you were just gonna be useless.” 

“My apologies, Jonah.” A small smile. “Does he know?” 

“Pardon?” 

“This man, does he know, or have you simply decided not to tell him?” 

Elias snorts. “Don’t see why he needs to know.” 

“He’s your sou-” 

“Please don’t say that  _ word _ .” Elias retorts cleanly. “I can’t stand that word.” 

“Never knew you to be one to deny facts.” 

“I deny nothing,” Elias snaps back. “I simply refuse to let anything so  _ abstract _ as the whims of fate distract from my life’s work.” 

“And yet, you chose to pursue him, did you not? Your need for understanding has finally come back to bite you.”

“No need to look so smug about it.” 

Simon sighs. “You have to tell him.”

“Oh yes. I’m sure that will go over swimmingly,” he spits the words. “‘Hello Peter, sorry I haven’t mentioned it in the three years we’ve known each other but I’ve been your soulmate the whole time’. Very good, thank you Simon.” 

“Don’t ask me for advice if you don’t want it.” Simon narrows his eyes. “You made this bed yourself.”

“Yes, thank you, I’m  _ aware _ .” Elias rubs at his temples. He can feel a headache building up behind his eyes. “Unfortunately there really is no good way to tell a patron of Forsaken that not only are you tied by fate but that you actually-” he cuts himself off. 

Still Simon catches him in it. “You what?”

“It’s not important.” 

“You  _ love _ him!” He punctuates the sentence with a high laugh. 

“I fail to see why that’s relevant.” 

“Oh dear, Jonah,” Simon shakes his head. “How are you going to get out of this one?” 

“You’re no help.” 

“Never am,” a grin. “Now either tell him or don’t. But stop moping, it’s embarrassing.” Simon perks up then. “Now, I best be off. Lovely catching up with you.” And then he vanishes with a whoosh of air and a smell like ozone. Elias feels an acute sense of vertigo for a moment. He really does need to stop associating with people who can disappear at the drop of a hat. It’s infuriating. 

*****

Peter stands on the edge of the deck of the tundra, letting the fog curl around him as he looks out over the sea. He’s content, sublime solitude wrapping around him like a cloak. Perfectly content save for the nagging annoyance that picks at the back of his brain.

He tries his best to ignore it. To wallow in the quiet loneliness of Forsaken. He lets his eyes drift shut, and he almost sinks into it.

Then his phone buzzes in his pocket and an exasperated groan falls from his lips. He takes the phone, doesn’t bother to check the caller ID. Only one person’s been calling him after all. He throws the wretched glass box into the sea. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise they're gonna figure it out soon... they're just the Worst


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> conversation, communication, neither of them are good at it though.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so this chapter is gonna be the last proper chapter before a short epilogue, thank you all for being so patient with me, sorry this took so long <33

Eyes start appearing on the  _ Tundra _ about a week after Peter disposes of the phone. Some are crudely drawn with chalk or painted in place, some scratched into the surface of a shipping crate or part of the ship. Peter’s not sure exactly where they come from, but makes a point of destroying each one he finds, blinding each eye with bitter precision.

His crew tends to be fairly loyal, but it wouldn’t surprise him to learn that Elias had managed to blackmail one of them. He’d always been a tricky little bastard. When he does find the crewmember doing it -it’s a lower level man, one they’d picked up at their most recent port- well, the traitor makes a good sacrifice to the Lonely. Peter’s not sure how Elias got to him, but that doesn’t really matter. He doesn’t like being watched. 

*****

Elias spends the next week fuming. Watching as one-by-one Peter blinds each one of his hidden eyes, sometimes offering a smug smile just before he does it.  _ Bastard _ . It’s been months since he’s seen Peter, and he finds himself growing more and more irritated by the moment. It comes to a head when suddenly, and without warning, Peter returns. 

It’s four pm and Elias is going over expense reports, tedious but necessary work. He hears the sound first, a tape recorder whirring to life. He glances at it curiously, and waits, understanding its meaning by now. Fog creeps in around the edges of his office, growing thicker until a chill creeps into Elias’ bones and his reading glasses begin to cloud. 

He lets it go a moment longer before he sighs, finally looking up from his work. “Could you reign it in please? The moisture damages the paperwork.” 

The fog recedes more quickly than it came, swirling into one central point until it coalesces into the form of a man, standing at the corner of Elias’ desk. And there is Peter, cocking his head to one side, his eyes narrowed as he regards Elias coolly. Elias glances up at him, raising an eyebrow before turning his gaze back down to his notes.

“Not going to say anything?” Peter growls after a long moment of silence. 

“I didn’t think there was much to be said, considering you were so insistent on ensuring I couldn’t make contact with you,” he sits back, tapping his pen against his lower lip. “Is there something on your mind then?”

Peter snorts. “I think we could start with the fact that you’ve been  _ lying  _ to me.”

That peaks Elias’ curiosity. “Have I? Oh dear,” Elias leans forwards, resting his elbows on the table, fingers forming a platform on which to rest his chin. “I lie quite a lot, so you’ll have to be more specific.”

“I think you know exactly what I’m talking about, Elias,” Peter’s pale eyes are cold, two chips of ice. “Should I call you Elias? Or do you prefer  _ Jonah _ .” 

Elias smiles like a shark. “I was beginning to wonder when you’d figure it out,” he pushes his chair back from the desk, climbing smoothly to his feet. “Might I ask what gave it away?”

“The pieces were all there, I just needed to put them together. In the end, it was the eyes. The first time I came to the institute I noticed the eyes on the portrait of Jonah, too bright somehow. Unnatural,” his jaw clenches hard. “Your eyes are exactly the same.” 

“How startlingly romantic of you, Peter.”

“It’s been  _ three _ years, Elias,” the words come through gritted teeth. “You’ve been lying to me for three years.” 

“Technically I never  _ lied  _ to you. At least not outright,” Elias takes a step closer, hand coming up to fiddle with the collar of Peter’s coat. “I never explicitly said ‘I am  _ not  _ the soul of Jonah Magnus inhabiting the stolen body of a research assistant.” 

“You let me believe-” 

“What would you have had me say? It’s quite a complicated situation, don’t you think?”

“You could have said something,” Peter steps away from him, pacing up and down the length of the office. 

“Would you have believed me? Honestly Peter…” 

That gives him pause. “I… don’t know.” 

“See?” he takes another step towards Peter. “So that’s out in the air. What happens now?” 

Peter grits his teeth hard. “Honestly? I was thinking about strangling you.”

“Well, now you’ve got my attention.”

“I hate you.” 

“I think we both know that’s not quite true.” Elias licks his lips, leaning into Peter’s space. “Is it even possible?” 

“What?” Peter’s brow furrows deeply at that. 

“For you to hate me. And vice versa.” He’s close now, about a foot away from Peter when he stops, waiting for some sign to proceed. 

“I- I don’t know. I don’t want that.” 

“What? And you think I do?” Elias scoffs. “I admit the thought of something so small as a word etched on my skin having sway over my life’s trajectory isn’t exactly  _ thrilling _ , but over a century of trying to avoid it has only brought me here.” He thinks bitterly of his fate, the back of his neck itching with the knowledge that this one thing in his life has always been beyond his control. He grits his teeth and thinks of spiders. 

Peter regards him with curiosity. “So it was-”

"On my original body? Yes. You,” Elias jabs a single finger into the center of Peter’s chest, “ _ Peter Lukas _ , have been a thorn in my side since before you were even a concept. So don’t act like you’re the only person inconvenienced by this.”

“ _ Fuck _ .”

“And you wonder why I didn’t tell you sooner,” Elias quips back. “That being said, I see no why reason this information should change our current arrangement, do you?” 

“It…  _ complicates  _ things.” Peter replies slowly. 

“Things would be complicated regardless my dear. It’s not as if this… arrangement between the two of us has ever been conventional. And, well… it’s clear that this situation is… inescapable.” A pause. “And I find I’ve grown… attached to you,” the words come pained, as if the mere admission hurts him. 

Peter laughs at him. “”Well, don’t let anyone tell you you’re not a romantic.”

“ _ Fine,” _ Elias all but snarls. “It…  _ irks  _ me to have to admit this, but I will say it if that’s what you want.” He takes a deep, shuddering breath. “I- hmm. I find myself in the rather unfortunate predicament of having fallen in love with you.” 

There is a long, tense beat of silence in which Peter merely stares at him, his mouth opening and closing a few times as if planning to say something. Then the edges of him start to blur, fog starts to wrap around him, his form fading just a bit. 

Elias snatches his wrist hard, “Peter don’t you fucking dare. If you vanish on me after that, I swear you will never know a moment’s peace so long as you live.” 

Just like that, Peter solidifies again, though he looks paler than before, and his wrist is cold where Elias grips it. “Sorry. Sometimes it’s a reflex,” he’s still not fully there, some parts of him seem almost translucent, but the place where Elias grips him is solid. “You- you love me?” 

“For god’s sake Peter don’t make me say it again,” Elias snaps.

Peter laughs again, grinning wide. “Maybe I just like watching you  _ give _ information rather than take it.” 

“You like watching me suffer,” Elias juts out his bottom lip in a pout. 

“I do,” he doesn’t pull away as Elias leans up into his space, getting just a little closer. “You insufferable little twat.”

“Hmm…” Elias slides a hand up Peter’s chest. “I missed you.” 

“Oh I know.” Peter’s strong hands come to grip Elias’ waist, cold through the fabric of his waistcoat. “I could feel it. You were so lonely.” 

“Ass.” He digs his nails into the other man’s arm. “Are you sorry for leaving?” 

“No.” Peter grins at him. “Are you sorry for lying?”

“Not one bit,” he stands on his toes, catching Peter’s lips in a kiss. 

Peter returns the kiss, holding Elias close, tongue slipping past his lips for just a moment, he pulls back then, one large, calloused hand coming to brush along Elias’ cheek. “Well look at us,” a laugh, “maybe we are perfect for each other.” 

“That’s the spirit my darling.” Elias moves to pull Peter into another kiss, when suddenly there’s a knock at the door. Abruptly Peter vanishes, throwing Elias off balance and sending him stumbling forwards. 

It’s Rosie, with some paperwork for him, he chides her on not simply using the intercom, attempting to maintain his composure in spite of being rather flustered about the whole thing. Once the conversation closes, Elias speaks into the empty air of the room. 

“If you’re still there, come to my flat this evening. We can discuss the rest of this then,” he feels the cold brush of the breeze on his skin, and he knows Peter has heard him.

*****

Peter does come to Elias’ flat that evening, surprising him by actually knocking instead of simply manifesting in his apartment as he has so often done previously. 

There’s a moment in which both men stare at each other, unsure of what to say. Peter steps into the apartment, shuts the door behind him. For the first time in such a long time, Elias feels unsure of himself. 

Peter sighs, and then steps forwards, taking Elias’ face in his hands, and pulling him into a kiss. Elias feels a small sound, somewhere between a sigh and a sob, rise up in this throat, as he wrapped an arm around the back of Peter's neck, holding him close. He hates how much he missed this, hates the warmth in his chest as he drags the other man close. 

He breaks the kiss, taking Peter’s wrist into his hand, sliding the sleeve up to see the mark there. He trails his fingers over the words.  _ His  _ handwriting, his  _ original _ handwriting. His name. His soulmate.  _ His. _

He presses his lips to the mark on Peter’s wrist, kissing the skin there, before moving up to kiss his palm, pressing his lips to the tip of each finger. Peter’s skin smells of tobacco smoke and his fingertips are calloused, rough against Elias’ lips. 

He glances up to find Peter looking down at him with something like awe in his gaze, Elias smiles against the other man’s skin before taking the tip of the other man’s finger into his mouth, sucking it into his mouth. 

Peter’s breath hitches, and his lips pull back in a smile as he slips the finger further past Elias’ lips, and Elias obliges, curling his tongue over callouses, all the while holding eye contact. 

Peter lets out a small, shaky breath, tongue sliding across his lower lip. “Holy fuck. Look at you…” 

Elias pulls back with a sharp smile. “I’m a vision, I know.” 

“And a modest one at that,” Peter snorts. 

“You don’t have to say it back, you know,” the words are hardly more than a whisper, Elias’ lips brushing over Peter’s knuckles. “I Know.” 

“What did I say about looking in my head?” but there’s no sting to the word, and his smile is soft. 

“You know you could stop me if you wanted to,” Elias is still holding Peter’s hand in his, and presses his cheek into the other man’s touch, Peter's skin is cool against the flushed, hot skin of Elias' cheek.

“I know,” Peter kissed him again and Elias finds himself clinging, fingers tangled in the fabric of the other man’s coat, desperate to keep him close, they break apart finally, both gasping for air. “So what happens now?”

Elias says the first thing that pops into his head. “We should get married.” 

“What?” Peter frowns down at him. “Why?” 

“Why not?” Elias raises an eyebrow. “It’s like you said, we’ve been at this for three years now. And it’s not like either of us is getting rid of the other anytime soon, especially considering the soulmate revelation.” 

“I suppose that’s fair,” Peter sighs. “Fuck it. I’m already stuck with you aren’t I? You wretched thing.” 

“Hmm… precisely,” Elias pulls him into another kiss. “I will require a proper proposal, of course.” 

“You want  _ me _ to propose?” 

“Well  _ obviously _ , it’s important to observe tradition,” Elias retorts. 

“What tradition?” Peter scoffs. “We’re both men, it’s not like there’s rules to follow.” 

“Yes, but I am the prettier one,” Elias plants a kiss on the side of Peter’s neck.

“Brat,” Peter tips his head back in spite of himself, accepting the kiss. “Fine you prissy little bastard. I’ll do it. Happy now?” 

“Hmm… perhaps,” he wraps an arm around Peter’s neck, having to reach up a fair bit to do so. “Regarding rings… I’m partial to emeralds.” 

“I’m gonna strangle you.”

Elias laughs against Peter’s skin. “You love me.” 

Peter says nothing, but pulls the smaller man into another kiss. 


	7. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a short epilogue regarding Fate and Feelings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you all so much for the feedback on this fic. I'm so glad you all enjoyed this!

They’re laying in bed when the conversation happens. It’s a fairly typical night for them, five years after their first marriage, two years into their second. It’s not unusual for them, in fact, these sexual arrangements are probably the only amicable part of their arrangement. Still, the conversation catches Elias off guard when it does come. 

“If all of this is fate…” Peter begins slowly, “and my name was on your body, you’re  _ original _ body, then what does that mean exactly?” 

“I’m sorry?” Elias frowns deeply at that. 

“Well, with most people, they’re born into the same  _ century _ at least. But I wasn’t even alive, wouldn’t be alive for another hundred years, and my name was on your wrist. What’s that say? That fate knew you’d find a way to keep on living? That fate knew you’d end up here, maybe knows the end of your path. I just… if that’s fate…. How much is choice.” 

Elias curls his lip up at that. “Stop that.”

“What?”

“Your fate talk. It’s too…” he curls his lip in disdain. “It makes me think of Spiders.”

“Apologies, love,” Peter rolls over, cupping Elias’ cheek in one large, calloused sailor’s hand. “You think it doesn’t bother me too?”

“Well if it does then why the fuck did you bring it up?” Elias narrows his eyes with the question. 

“Just something that wouldn’t leave my head,” Peter presses a bit closer. “I suppose it doesn’t really matter in the end, does it?”

“No,” Elias pulls Peter into a kiss, tongue tracing across his lower lip, teeth quick to follow. 

Peter chuckles against the other man’s mouth, one broad hand coming to wrap around his waist. 

Elias pulls back, forehead resting against Peter’s still. “No, it doesn’t, you’re mine regardless,” Elias pauses, emerald eyes narrowing abruptly. “Aren’t you?”

“Yeah,” Peter laughs. “Yeah, I’m yours.” 

Elias hums, content, before burying his face into Peter’s chest. He knows the other man won’t be there when he wakes up, having to heed the call of the Forsaken. Still it’s nice to imagine.


End file.
